


take the words from my mouth

by Experi



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Body Worship, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, cu has one brain cell and that brain cell is horny, fate brings out the horny in all of us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experi/pseuds/Experi
Summary: I'm back with MORE PORNOGRAPHY, again the only summary I can possibly offer being "read the tags".in media res of Archer giving Cu a hard time but also oral, lowkey body worship, and Cu having the opinion that being forced to wait two (2) minutes is the worst thing that's ever happened to him.





	take the words from my mouth

**Author's Note:**

> "write something other than arcu oral" i say to myself as i continue to write arcu oral

The bites get sharper after Archer’s finished stripping Cú, as if he’d gotten what he wanted out of the interlude and now he means business. Not that Cú minds at all– he’ll take this and brag to himself, count the marks in a mirror afterwards as the only sort of collar he’s happy with. Teeth drag over the ridge of his collarbone and Cú tilts his head back to allow it, encourage them to get harder– draw blood, if Archer wants.   
  
It’s all well and good, Cú bare and hard underneath him as Archer lavishes attention over him like he’s a gift, teeth becoming more and more interspersed by lips and tongue as he goes further from Cú’s neck. Cú mutters encouragements or comments often, far too eager to let himself be vulnerable and taken here than logic should dictate. It’s not until Archer drifts to his chest and still hasn’t touched or even noted Cú’s erection that Cú understands what’s going on here. Foreplay is one thing, but they did that, it was ticked off, time for the main show, and now he’s hard and Archer’s just ignoring that. Cú whines.   
  
“Archer, aren’t you gonna–” He’s cut off by a sharp noise from his own throat as Archer bites his chest with the sort of sharpness that reads as ‘admonishment’.   
  
“I know what I’m doing. Be patient,” is all the reply he gets. Fine then. Patient Cú will be. As much as he can, anyways, which turns out to be ‘not very’ the more time stretches out with Archer exploring him inch by inch, with hands and mouth alike and all extremely far away from his crotch. Cú does his best not to swear (that’s broken any time Archer does something particularly nice for him, but otherwise, he’s being good. He’s being patient. Intolerable as that may be.)   
  
He hates being teased, drawn out like this–   
  
Well, no. That’s not quite right. He doesn’t hate it. Cú’s breath hitches, caught in his throat. It’s frustrating, as Archer takes his time over Cú’s abdomen, lips sweet against muscle but his dick is right there and nearly hurting from how hard he is. Whining does nothing, either, and if Cú were in a thinking mood he’d come to the easy conclusion that he’s fucking a sadist.   
  
“Archer, Archer please,” he groans, arching his back into Emiya as best he can, like the concern is that Archer’s forgotten his dick is there. He feels Archer laugh more than hears it, a puff of exhale against his skin and the rumble of Archer’s chest. Like he’s finally being pitied, one of Archer’s hands moves from holding Cú‘s hip down to stroke feather-light and barely substantial over Cú‘s erection. Cú moans loudly– thank god, it’s not enough but it’s better than being teased– which turns into an annoyed keening when the hand disappears again after only a drag of fingertips over his shaft. “Ah, bastard, you’re liking this too much.”   
  
His voice isn’t enough to sound properly scolding, too interspersed with his halting attempts to catch his breath and find his abruptly-lost train of thought.   
  
“Maybe,” Archer says back to him, looking up with a small, smug smile and even that’s enough to make Cú whine helplessly, letting his head fall back.   
  
(He likes Archer too much, likes his hands likes his voice likes his attention his mouth his body his presence – he made a mistake, maybe, hunting after Archer when he wants him too badly to keep himself aloof and disconnected. He likes flings, maybe too much, but it’s not a fling when he desperately wants to take everything Archer has to offer, leave marks and advertisement that  _ this is mine _ .)   
  
As if he’s completely unaware of Cú’s laboured breathing and cock twitching underneath him, Archer merely hums and continues his process of trailing kisses and soft murmurs over Cú’s stomach. Cú manages, fingers curled in the bedsheet, stomach tense. It’s when Archer reaches the trail of hair a bit below his belly button and deviates, instead nipping over the ride of his hip (earning a sharp “ah!”), that Cú complains again.    
  
It’s presented in the form of Cú letting go of the blanket and going to the top of Archer’s head, trying with a futile sort of effort to get him to  _ move _ and  _ if you’re going to put your mouth to work would you please god just put it on my cock _ . Neither of which are phrases Cú actually manages to get past his throat, instead they just change into another mostly-nonsense string of “please, just fucking, Archer–.”   
  
And all Archer does is smile again and tilt his head up, taking Cú’s wrist in his hand. He kisses the palm, fingertips, and then Cú tries to prod at him for it, Archer just runs his tongue over Cú’s finger-pads, earning him another incoherently needy noise.   
  
(It’s frustrating, frustrating! He’s going to die here– which wouldn’t be too bad a place or way to die, admittedly. ‘Fucked to death by Archer, it’s the way he wanted to go’ would make a fantastic eulogy.)   
  
“I hate you,” Cú chokes out as Archer drags two of Cú‘s fingers out of his mouth and stares at him innocently. (Or as innocently as as he can look, flushed and lips swollen.)   
  
“I have no idea why,” Archer replies.   
  
Cú’s response fails to be eloquent, a garbled grumbling as Archer sits back and, with an air that Cú reads as annoyingly smug, bites his thigh and warns him something-something impatience. (Cú is a perfectly patient man. He can sit in a tree waiting for quarry for days but he feels like he has been lying here waiting for Archer to even  _ breathe _ on his dick for  _ weeks _ . This is unfair.) He would have touched himself, really wants to right now, when Archer’s so close to him and his cock is throbbing painfully, but he was already warned once that if he so much as tries, Archer will be gone in a heartbeat. And that would be worse than dying here.   
  
So Cú waits, eyes shut and trying to pay attention to literally anything else other than where Archer is and how badly he wants him. Think disgruntled thoughts of Scathach kicking him into a river instead of the current situation, as if Cú has ever once in his life been capable of ignoring his own libido. Eventually, Archer either takes pity on him or finds he’s given satisfactory attention to Cú’s thighs. His fingers wrap around Cú’s dick and Cú takes himself by surprise with how loud the noise he makes is as his hips jolt into Emiya’s hands. Cú’s awareness is down to himself and Archer, the room only exists in what’s touching him and where he can feel Archer’s skin, from hands and mouth to where Cú’s got his leg awkwardly thrown over Archer’s shoulder.   
  
Breath ghosts over the tip of his dick before Archer takes him into his mouth and Cú moans again. This time, when he reaches down to pull his fingers through Archer’s hair to half-guide half-just feel him there as his head moves, he’s not refused. Cú’s noisy, too loud and no attention given to what he’s saying in a tripping string of Archer’s name in-between pleas and expletives. (He doesn’t care if he gets chided by someone who hears, wouldn’t even care if someone was watching at this point.)   
  
It feels too soon when he tenses again, like Archer’s not been there long enough and drawn him out where it only takes a minute for Cú to break. He says something, probably (the noises he’s making have faded to background filter in his head), though it’s not much of a warning before he comes, back arched and eyes shut.   
  
It takes him time to recover, panting open-mouthed and unaware as he slowly comes down and repossesses his faculties. (Mostly repossesses, there’s still the hazy warmth covering most of his thoughts.) When Cú opens his eyes again to look at Archer, the other’s still between his legs, watching him expectantly. Cú almost whines again as Archer idly runs his tongue over his lips, catching a strand of come that had trailed with Cú’s dick out of his mouth. That guy, really -- Cú figures it’s for the best that he’s never really been one to leave things after one round. Insatiable at best.   
  
Cú nudges Archer in the back with his foot. “C’mere,” he half-slurs. “Your turn.” Or at least a kiss, come on.


End file.
